


Love Is Everywhere I Go

by mysticanni



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Cake, Fluff, Gossip, Happy Ending, M/M, Mention of drug dealing, Mention of guns, Mud, Romance, Tea, Zebras, just one zebra, mention of threats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 23:19:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28839165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysticanni/pseuds/mysticanni
Summary: Brian, Freddie and John take a wrong turning and meet a cute blond and a zebra.
Relationships: John Deacon/Roger Taylor
Comments: 18
Kudos: 29





	Love Is Everywhere I Go

**Author's Note:**

> Title from 'Love Is Everywhere I Go' by Sam Phillips (since I've already used 'Is That Your Zebra?' ;)

Freddie looked dubiously at the sea of mud ahead of them and glanced down at his boots. He tried to arrange his face into what he hoped looked like a polite ‘I am not at all dismayed by the state of your yard’ smile. He was not sure he was succeeding. 

Brian waded enthusiastically into the mud in his clogs, barely seeming to register the muck splattering onto the hems of his trousers. “How does he keep those abominable things on his feet?” John wondered. 

Freddie shrugged. “I have a bad feeling about this,” he muttered, wobbling precariously after Brian through the mire. 

“Hallo?” Brian called towards the stone wall of the old farmhouse. “Anyone around?” he added. 

There was no reply. Freddie sighed. “I did suggest calling ahead,” he said, unable to prevent a slightly smug tone creeping into his voice. 

Brian ignored this and called out again. “We’re from the Board of Education,” he called. 

“Because that’ll make them leap out of hiding,” John muttered. He did not add that this had also been the reason they had not called ahead but he thought it quietly to himself.

Brian splashed on regardless around the corner of the building. John and Freddie sloshed after him.

“Mr...” Brian paused and consulted his clip-board, “...Harrington-Smythe?”

“The place seems positively deserted, dear,” Freddie observed, “Let’s go for lunch!”

Brian frowned at him. “Mr Harrington-Smythe? Hallo? Did you receive our letter? We’re here to inspect your school!”

There was a loud snorting sound behind them. They all swung around in alarm. Freddie moved so rapidly he slipped and landed heavily in the mud on his bottom with a squelch.

John bit his lip hard so that he didn’t laugh. They were all facing... “Is that a zebra?” Brian gawped.

“Are you a zebra?” John asked the striped creature solemnly. It made another snorting sound. “I think that’s a yes,” he decided, cautiously moving over to assist a furious looking Freddie to his feet.

“This is clearly a wild goose chase,” Freddie announced in a voice trembling with emotion – he was plainly seething. 

“More of a wild zebra chase,” John murmured, earning a glare. 

“Piano!” someone called, sounding anxious. “Where have you gone you silly prettified donkey!”

They exchanged glances. The zebra turned its head towards the voice. “Mr Harrington-Smythe?” Brian called, looking the same way as the zebra.

A person appeared around the corner of the farmhouse building. He halted as he caught sight of them. He approached cautiously like a wary animal. 

The person was wearing muddy wellington boots, jeans that looked like they’d seen better days, a baggy but warm looking coat and a multi-coloured woolly hat with a pom-pom. Blond hair was trying to escape from beneath the hat. The person had lovely blue eyes, John noticed as they edged closer. 

“This is private property,” the person told them. He had a raspy voice. The zebra harrumphed in apparent agreement. “She was in a feisty mood and she bolted from her enclosure,” he added, sounding worried. He glanced anxiously at Freddie’s mud-coated trousers. “She hasn’t done anything has she?” he fretted.

“I slipped,” Freddie ground out through clenched teeth.

“Oh, dear, you didn’t hurt yourself did you?” the man said sympathetically to Freddie. “I’m replacing the paving here,” he told them, waving his arm at the sea of mud they were standing in. “I didn’t think Piano would come this way. She doesn’t like mud, do you, you silly thing?” He approached the zebra slowly and gently patted her nose.

“Mr Harrington-Smythe,” Brian said firmly, “we are here from the Board of Education...”

“Who?” the man said, looking bewildered. Then his face cleared, “Oh!” he nodded, “You mean Peregrine?”

Brian glanced less certainly at his clip-board. “Yes,” he agreed, “Peregrine Harrington-Smythe.”

“You’re at the wrong house, I’m afraid,” the man told them. “You should have taken the turn before this.”

There was a moment of silence then Freddie howled, “AS I BELIEVE I TOLD YOU, BRIAN!” 

“I think it was actually John that suggested...” Brian gulped and his voice trailed off in the face of Freddie’s fury.

“He’s gone, anyway,” the man said, “I’m Roger.” He surveyed them. “Come in and have a cuppa and perhaps we can...sort you out a bit.” He cast a doubtful look at Freddie’s mud sodden trousers.

It started to rain again. The rain was cold and sleety. They exchanged glances again. “That’s very kind of you, Roger, dear,” Freddie said decisively. 

*

They removed their muddy footwear in the porch before entering the farmhouse kitchen. The zebra – Piano - tried to follow them into the farmhouse. “Shoo, you silly thing,” Roger instructed it fondly. “You stubborn fancy mule.” The zebra took no notice. “Make yourselves at home,” Roger urged them, as he filled the kettle and set it on the top of the lovely cosy range that was blasting heat into the room. “I’ll just go and take Piano back to the stables.” He pulled his boots back on and vanished into the rain.

Freddie stood awkwardly, not wanting to plant his muddy rear on a chair. When Roger returned he said, “Come with me and I’ll see if I have anything that would fit you...”

John wandered around the cosy kitchen. It looked lived in. There was a battered armchair with a book on the arm of it near the warm range. There was also a large wooden table with wooden benches that stood nearer the window. Rain was streaming down the glass now.

Roger and Freddie returned just as the kettle began to whistle. Freddie was now clad in clean jeans and had swapped his mud-spattered shirt and jacket for a t-shirt and cardigan. The clothes looked well worn and the jeans were well patched. Roger had pulled off his hat and his hair fell in soft fair waves down to his shoulders. He had an angelic look, John thought dreamily. 

Roger made tea and produced a packet of chocolate digestives. He shook some of these onto a plate. They sat around the table and sipped their tea, hands curled around the mugs savouring the warmth.

“Did you say Mr Harrington-Smythe had gone?” Brian asked. 

Roger nodded. “There was some kind of trouble, I think,” he murmured vaguely. “They all left very suddenly last week.”

“They?” Brian questioned, “Do you mean the school closed?”

“The school?” Roger echoed. He frowned. “There was a group of people living there,” he offered uncertainly. “Peregrine, of course, and Barbara and Goatee and Paisley...”

“Goatee?” Brian looked bemused, “Paisley?”

“I didn’t know all of their names,” Roger explained, “so that’s what I called them. Goatee had a wispy little beard and Paisley always wore amazing paisley-patterned shirts.” Roger looked wistful. “I should have asked him where he sourced them. I don’t suppose I’ll see him again.”

“Mr Harrington-Smythe was running a school,” Brian said slowly. He sounded like he was clinging to these words like a drowning man might cling to a plank of wood in a stormy sea.

John wanted to ask different questions like, why did Roger have a zebra and did he live here alone? But he supposed they were not here for Roger. He nibbled on a biscuit. Following the removal of his coat Roger had turned out to be wearing a multi-coloured jumper that looked like it might have been knitted by the same person who had produced his hat. Who provided Roger with his knitwear? That was another question. 

“Are you sure he was running a school?” Roger asked.

“Well, he certainly accepted a maintenance grant for one, dear,” Freddie informed him. 

“I expect I just didn’t see any pupils because...Well, the properties are quite far apart and we didn’t really have much to do with each other,” Roger said hastily, clearly unwilling to drop Mr Harrington-Smythe in it.

“Were you friendly with Mr Harrington-Smythe?” John asked. 

Roger shook his head. “He wasn’t really my cup of tea,” he murmured. A look of indignation crossed his face, “And Goatee was downright rude. He came to get eggs and had the nerve to inform me that I shouldn’t be keeping Piano here without a licence.”

John suspected that one should, in fact, have a licence if one was keeping a zebra but he made what he hoped was a suitably sympathetic face. He was slightly relieved when Roger added crossly, “It was the way he said it! He could have just asked – do you have a licence for your zebra? He just assumed I didn’t!”

“Do you?” Brian wondered.

Roger laughed, “Yes, I have a Dangerous Wild Animals licence,” he told them. “Zebras can be prone to attack, although most of the time Piano is a sweetheart. This place has been inspected to make sure I have adequate fencing and so on. And I’m a member of the Association of British Wild Animal Keepers.” He sipped his tea and surveyed them. “Do school inspectors always travel in packs?”

Brian gave him a tight-lipped smile. “No,” he said, “but the first inspector we sent was seen off by a man armed with a shot-gun. We contacted the police but there was little they could do. Apparently Mr Harrington-Smythe has a valid shot-gun licence and he claimed he was shooting rats at the time and denied any threats were made.”

Roger looked shocked. “I didn’t know he had a gun,” he murmured.

“So you never saw any sign of school children at his property?” Freddie probed. 

Roger shook his head. “The property had been empty for years before Peregrine bought it - or perhaps he inherited it. It’s called Harrington Hall so maybe he’s a descendant of the original Harringtons. This is a small community so news travels fast and we heard the Hall had occupants. I first met Barbara in the village bakery. She seemed a bit snooty. She kind of talked to everyone like they were a child, you know what I mean? Condescending, is that the word? I assumed she was Peregrine’s wife but Mrs Kane at the Post Office said that there was another man living there too. That turned out to be Goatee. I have a little produce stall at the end of the driveway by the roadside and there’s an honesty box and I first met Goatee there when I was putting some carrots on the stall. I suspect they were the sort of people who helped themselves but didn’t put anything in the honesty box,” he concluded sadly. 

“What about Paisley?” John asked, fascinated. 

Roger sipped his tea. “He appeared later. Well, I met him later. There were a few people. There was Purple woman. She always wore purple clothes. I met her in the pharmacy. She was getting vitamin pills and I was getting painkillers. Then there was Old Guy. He had white hair and walked with a cane. I didn’t meet him although I saw him out and about in the village and Mrs Kane said he was staying at Harrington Hall. There was Leather Jacket too. He didn’t stay very long. He was a man of very few words. He kind of grunted at Mr Leonard in the newsagents when he was buying cigarettes. None of them stayed very long. The only ones who seemed to stay were Peregrine himself, Barbara, Goatee and Paisley.”

Paisley had arrived a few months after Peregrine and Barbara, Roger told them. He had come to Roger’s property and asked if Roger sold eggs. “I said I was happy to give them eggs,” Roger said. “I have quite a few hens and there’s a limit to how many eggs one person can eat, although I give some to Mrs Kane and Mr Leonard usually. Paisley was an odd bloke. I gave my name but he never volunteered his. He kept looking around him like he was afraid someone was spying on us. Sometimes he came to collect eggs and sometimes it was Goatee, who also never bothered introducing himself. Occasionally it was Barbara who came and very rarely Peregrine.” Roger sighed. “I do wish I’d asked Paisley about his shirts.”

John grinned into his mug of tea. Roger seemed very sweet. Roger offered them more tea and tentatively asked if they would like something more substantial than biscuits to eat.

Once they were settled with fresh mugs of tea and sandwiches Roger asked, “So the first inspector was warned off with a shot-gun?”

John nodded. “The next time we sent a pair of inspectors,” he told Roger. “They found the gates across the driveway up to the Hall closed and padlocked shut. They walked around the perimeter wall but couldn’t find any other access points so they returned with no inspection having taken place.”

“Which raised suspicions,” Freddie chimed in. “We had given Harrington Hall School a sizeable grant. They were supposed to be offering a select group of children an education with a focus on artistic accomplishments. I was an art teacher before I became a school inspector which is why I am here and Brian is one of our most experienced inspectors.”

“I’m not an inspector at all,” John explained, “I work in the finance department and I was very interested in having a look at the accounts for the school.” He shrugged, “Except the school does not really seem to exist.”

“A bold fraud,” Freddie murmured. 

“Now, we don’t know that for sure,” Brian cautioned. “It does seem likely, though,” he sighed. 

“I wonder what they were doing,” Roger murmured.

“It all seems very odd,” Brian noted.

Once they had finished their tea and sandwiches and slices of cake they thanked Roger and ventured back out into the rain. “Thank you so much for the clothes,” Freddie said, giving him a quick hug. “I’ll return them as soon as possible.”

*

They retraced their steps and found the driveway that led to Harrington Hall. John was surprised to see that the gates were open. They drove through and up the long gravel driveway to the house.

“Wow,” Brian said as the house came into sight. “That is one large and ugly building.”

“Someone had a lot more money than taste,” Freddie agreed.

It was still raining heavily as they dashed from the car to the large wooden door at the front of the building. There was a surprisingly modern looking doorbell which Brian pressed. They could hear it shrill – the sound seeming to echo around beyond the door. They were all huddled under the overhang above the door to get some shelter from the rain.

Freddie pressed his ear against the door but could not hear anything. The jangle of the doorbell seemed to have died away. 

John wondered idly why Roger had a zebra. He wished he’d asked. It was like Roger and the paisley shirts – he might never see Roger again and would therefore not find out the story behind Piano. 

Brian pressed the doorbell again. “I hope someone does open this door,” he sighed, “because I don’t really want to have to walk round the house in this rain to see if there is any other entrance or sign of life.”

Yet that is what they ended up doing. “At least it isn’t muddy,” Freddie murmured as they traipsed around the building.

There was no sign of anyone and although they found another couple of doors no one answered those either. Brian shrugged. “I think we’ll have to give up,” he announced, not sounding particularly devastated. 

*

A few days later Freddie wandered up to John’s desk. “Darling, I was wondering if you would do me a favour,” he began, perching on the edge of the desk and picking up John’s staple extractor which he started to open and close.

“Uh...” John fought his natural urge to simply agree to do the favour. He was trying not to be a door-mat. He lost. “Yes, of course.”

Freddie smiled at him. “I knew I could rely on you. My car’s in the garage and I need to go back to Roger’s farm to return his clothes. Would you mind terribly driving me out there this Saturday?”

John tried not to look too keen but was not sure he succeeded. He felt his face break into a grin. He only just managed to avoid saying he’d love to. “Yes, of course,” he spluttered, “Of course I can do that.”

He told himself that the only reason he wanted to see Roger again was so he could ask how Roger had ended up with a zebra. He didn’t even sound convincing to himself. 

*

He noticed Roger’s produce stall with its honesty box this time. It was bare, however. John turned the car onto the gravel track that led up to the farm. 

It was a cold grey day but thankfully not raining. They found that there had been an impressive amount of progress with the paving work around the farmhouse and the ground was no longer a sea of mud.

There was no sign of either Roger or Piano. They walked around the corner of the farmhouse as they had done before. Freddie had brought Roger a bottle of wine as a thank you. “I suppose we could just leave everything at the door,” he said doubtfully. “I would like to see Roger though.”

The paving stopped abruptly but the ground was a lot drier. “Shall we look around for a bit?” John suggested, “See if we can find him?” He did not think he could cope with the disappointment if they could not find Roger.

Beyond the farmhouse there was a stable block. There was no sign of Piano though. Behind the stable block they could see a high fence. John recalled Roger mentioning something about adequate fencing in relation to the zebra. “I think the fencing might be for the zebra,” he ventured, “so maybe they’re there.”

They walked towards the fencing and beyond it could see Piano joyously rolling around in what looked like a sandpit. There was still no sign of Roger though. 

“Isn’t she sweet?” Freddie cooed, “When she isn’t loose and sneaking up behind people.”

They walked along the fence and could see what looked like a vegetable garden with a couple of greenhouses at the edge of it. They could see Roger there, closing the door of a little shed. “Roger!” Freddie called.

Roger turned and saw them. His face broke into a smile. “Freddie! John! How lovely!”

John felt his face break into a smile too. Roger had his multi-coloured hat and shapeless coat on again although this time he was wearing muddy boots instead of wellington boots.

“Are those bee-hives?” Freddie asked, gesturing beyond the greenhouses.

Roger nodded. “Yeah, I have a couple of bee-hives,” he said. He grinned at them. “Come in! Mrs Kane gave me a cherry cake this morning so we can have some of that! She’s a very good baker!”

*

Roger was delighted with the wine. “There was no need, honestly.”

“There was every need,” Freddie disagreed.

Once they were settled with tea and cake John asked, “So...Um...How did you come to have a zebra?”

“It’s really quite a dull story,” Roger said, “My cousin is a vet and discovered that someone had been keeping Piano illegally. She hadn’t been very well treated. People assume it’s going to be like having a horse or a donkey but zebras can’t be domesticated, although Piano is very good-natured, really. Anyway, my cousin was looking for someone who had room to house her and...” Roger waved his arm in the general direction of the door, “I have plenty of space here and I wasn’t using the stables so...” He smiled. “She’s good company. It gets a bit lonely up here sometimes.” He looked thoughtful. “I suppose I should get a cat or a dog. Or a cat and a dog.”

“Perhaps you should get a person,” Freddie suggested lightly, “One who can bake you lovely cakes, maybe?”

Roger laughed then looked a little sad, “I’m not sure anyone would have me,” he sighed. 

“I’m sure that’s not true, dear,” Freddie said. He surveyed Roger. “Perhaps you have an admirer you haven’t realised is lusting after you. Did someone knit you that jumper, for example?”

Roger grinned, “My gran knitted this! I get most of my knitwear from her!”

“Hmm...” Freddie glanced between Roger and John. 

“Is this a working farm?” John asked, in order to change the subject. He found himself slightly concerned about what Freddie might say next.

Roger laughed, “Oh, hell no!” He shook his head. “I dabble. I have some chickens and the vegetable garden and the bee-hives but it doesn’t pay. No,” he shook his head again, “I work from home as a software developer. It pays the bills and I can set my own hours. It suits me.”

“That’s great,” John smiled at him. 

“Have you found out any more about what was happening at Harrington Hall?” Roger wondered. “It still seems to be deserted.”

“The police seem to think they were using it as a base to distribute illegal drugs,” Freddie told him. “They forced entry and they found the place completely empty but there were all these little hidey-holes built into the walls and they think drugs were stored there...although I suppose they could have been stashing any illegal items. They haven’t been able to trace any of the people, though.”

“They might come to speak to you about it,” John said, feeling slightly apologetic although it was not his fault. “I think they are asking police artists to draw the ‘persons of interest’ from people’s descriptions of them.”

“Goodness!” Roger shook his head. “We don’t normally have much crime around here!”

They exchanged phone numbers before parting. “So we can keep you up to date with the case,” John had suggested although there was absolutely no reason why Roger should be kept updated with the mystery school case. Roger had been enthusiastic about exchanging numbers though.

“You know where I am,” Roger said as he opened the door, “If you want to get out of town then you’re welcome to visit at any time.”

*

Freddie placed a mug of coffee on John’s desk. “Thanks,” John said, trying not to sound suspicious although he was.

“You’re welcome, darling,” Freddie declared, perching on the edge of John’s desk. “My sister’s cat has had kittens. I’ve contacted Roger to see if he would like one of them when they are old enough to leave their mum and he would.”

“That’s lovely,” John said politely, wondering what this had to do with him. He felt a little flutter of excitement at the mention of Roger and told himself not to be so silly. 

“My car is still playing up dreadfully. It’s very unreliable. Of course it might have been properly fixed by the time the kitten is ready to be re-homed but if not...”

John grinned. “I’d be delighted to drive you there.”

*

Roger emerged from the house as John halted the car. “This is so kind of you,” he beamed, “And of Freddie. I’m so sorry he’s ill. I hope it isn’t anything serious.”

“I think he’ll live,” John assured him, opening the back door of the car and extracting the travelling cage containing the very vocal and unhappy kitten from the back seat. 

Freddie had called that morning sounding perfectly fine, saying, “I’m sorry, darling, I feel absolutely ghastly. I think I have that stomach bug that’s doing the rounds. The one everybody at work has been off with. Would you mind terribly taking the kitten to Roger by yourself?”

As far as John knew (and he organised sick pay) there had been no one off work with a stomach bug. But he had been delighted to take the kitten to Roger alone.

Roger was peering into the cage. “Aw, sweetheart, it’s all right, we’ll free you in a second...”

The kitten howled desolately. “She has a big voice for such a small creature,” John noted. 

*

The kitten was a tiny ball of black fluff. Roger had placed a little basket near the range and once the kitten had been released and had glared reproachfully at them she curled up in the basket and fell asleep.

“What are you going to call her?” John wondered as he accepted a cup of tea.

“I think she might be a Midnight,” Roger said. 

“Midnight,” John repeated, “Yes that suits her.”

“Oh, it’s snowing,” Roger said, looking out of the window. He looked sad, “You should probably go once you’ve finished your tea in case the track becomes tricky. The road isn’t great when it snows. We’re quite high up here.”

John felt disappointment crash over him. He nodded. “That would be sensible,” he agreed.

They were sitting side by side on one of the benches at the kitchen table. Roger shifted slightly closer to John who was very aware of him – he could smell Roger’s shampoo and see the golden hairs on his arm where he had pushed his sleeves up. “Or,” Roger’s voice sounded a little unsteady, “You could...um...stay...” Roger’s lips brushed John’s. “That might mean you have to stay the night,” he added. 

“I think I could live with that,” John murmured, returning Roger’s kiss. “Especially if it means we need to huddle together for warmth,” he added. 

Roger grinned, “I definitely think that would be wise.”

*

“Well?” Freddie demanded on Monday morning. 

“I’m very well, thank you, Freddie,” John said, “You seem to be in good health too, have you recovered from your illness?”

Freddie waved his hand impatiently. “What happened with Roger?”

John felt a blush spread across his cheeks. “We got snowed in on Saturday night,” he mumbled, “So I stayed with him and...”

“And what!” Freddie shrieked impatiently.

“Keep your voice down,” John hissed, “And...Well, we’re now a couple.” He flushed again, the word couple conjuring images of them coupled together. He recalled how sweet Roger looked with tousled hair and glistening eyes.

Freddie clapped his hands together. “Excellent!” he beamed, “I was afraid you might have fucked it up somehow!”

“Thanks a bunch,” John grumbled but he was unable to prevent himself from smiling. “Thanks for arranging us being alone together,” he said. 

“You’re welcome,” Freddie smiled. “It’s a shame you can’t bake but I suppose it’ll be better for both of your waistlines!”


End file.
